


With a cause there's a cure for the soul

by ASheepsLife



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: (it's really not dramatic; I'm just playing it safe), But it will be ok, Cougar is there, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Jensen is having a hard time dealing with the Bolivia fallout, M/M, Pining, takes place during the events of the movie, tw: child death (mention), tw: mild description of injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 22:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASheepsLife/pseuds/ASheepsLife
Summary: After they were left for dead in Bolivia, Jensen is falling apart. Cougar is trying his best to hold him together.





	With a cause there's a cure for the soul

**Author's Note:**

> This takes off somewhere between the helicopter being shot down and the Losers meeting Aisha. My hc for this is that they moved around quite a bit - which might also explain why it took Aisha so long to find them. Anyway, they're not yet staying in the hotel here. Later chapters will cover further parts of the movie - though I'm not sure when I'll get round to them. (Regular update schedule? I don't know her.)
> 
> Rating subject to change.
> 
> Title from Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's "The Toll" (because I'm unoriginal like that).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jensen dissociates a little in this chapter; it's nothing really extensive, just be aware if this is difficult for you.

“You know, Clay’s right,” Jensen remarked from where he was chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter. “There’s no need for me to freak out about any of this,” he went on, encompassing their current situation with a wave of his knife. “Why would I? We’re only stuck here for the foreseeable future with no prospects of getting back to the good old US of A and no way of making sure our families are ok. And why wouldn’t they be? We’re only dealing with a homicidal megalomaniac on a personal vendetta, apparently.”

Fucking _Max_.

Behind him, Jensen could feel Cougar be apprehensively silent at him from his place at the tiny kitchen table where he was contributing to the dinner preparations because the counter – hell, the entire crappy kitchen – was clearly not designed with more than one adult human in mind. He carried on wielding his knife with more force than bell peppers strictly required.

Fucking _Bolivia_.

“It’s not like I really have anything to worry about. We’re dead, as far as he knows.” As far as _anyone _knew. “Granted, he’s a twisted a-hole who’s shown he has no compunctions about murdering innocent children, but I suppose it would be unfair of me to assume from one isolated incident that he goes around murdering innocent children for fun. I should probably cut him some slack; I’m sure he only does it when his evil plans call for it. Collateral’s a bitch, am I right?”

In a strangely out-of-body way, Jensen could hear his torrent picking up steam, careening out of his control. That was the problem; he barely felt in control these days, like he was hanging on to his sanity by a thread, always this close to snapping, lashing out at those around him in turn. He was constantly irritable – they all were, grating at each other thanks to the forced inaction, right on the heels of that mission turned waking nightmare, and being holed up on top of each other in a tiny, dingy, _hot_ apartment wasn’t helping any either.

It led to scenes like the one earlier, with conversation once again turning to how the hell were they going to get out of there, everybody recycling the same tired arguments, Jensen getting heated because maybe _some_ people didn’t have as much riding on this as others, whereat Clay told him to calm down – which of course always calmed everything right the fuck down. Just as Jensen had thought that might be the time they finally came to blows over it, Roque had dragged Clay out to blow off some steam drinking or gambling or what the fuck ever sleazy clichés those two indulged in while Cougar had herded him off to make dinner.

Fucking _Clay_.

“No, no. Why should I be worried? That would be irrational, downright hysterical of me, considering this nutjob knows our names, likely knows everything about us, because who are we kidding, he’s CI fucking A! And there’s nothing stopping him from going after our families.”

“Jake –”

“And instead of finding a way to get us home, I’m working in a fucking doll factory,” Jensen ploughed on, viciously dismembering a second pepper. “So hey, maybe I’ll never see Jess and Beth again. But sure, oh fearless leader, I’ll keep the fuck calm and carry the fuck on, until you in your infinite fucking wisdom decide – mothershitting son of a _fuck_!”

Missing the pepper and slicing his finger instead brought Jensen’s tirade to a resounding finale. He slammed the fist still holding the knife onto the counter, barely managing to prevent himself from doing the same with his smarting left hand. He ended up holding it awkwardly to the side instead because this development was just perfect and he really couldn’t deal with it right now. It was only when he felt warm hands gently prying the knife out of his grip that he realized he’d closed his eyes. Opening them, he detachedly watched Cougar place the knife on the cutting board, then felt him move around behind Jensen, taking hold of his wrist to tug his other hand over the sink. Jensen was distantly aware of the water stinging his finger, but his gaze was fixed on their point of contact, stuck somehow on the contrast between their skin until he managed to yank it away, directing it, unseeing, at the cupboard in front of him. The water shut off and he felt his hand being pat dry.

“What’s the verdict? Am I gonna make it?”

He thought his voice sounded a little funny, but it wasn’t until Cougar’s hand entered his line of sight, carefully brushing a tear from Jensen’s cheek with the back of a finger, that he understood why.

Huh. That was a bit much. Yeah, cutting his finger hurt like a mother, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t endured far worse before.

Sliding in between Jensen and the counter, Cougar settled his hand at the nape of Jensen’s neck with gentle, firm pressure, his gaze burning into Jensen.

“Sí.”

In the fierceness of Cougar’s low voice, the strain of worry was clearly audible. When Jensen met his gaze, Cougar’s stalwart concern and the strength of his conviction nearly bowled him over. They weren’t talking about Jensen’s finger, and he could feel his fault lines breaking open.

Something of that must have shown on his face, for the next thing he knew, Cougar was guiding Jensen’s head onto his shoulder, bringing his other arm up to wrap it around Jensen’s back.

And Jensen, Jensen felt himself just…let go.

Here, in the circle of Cougar’s steadfast embrace, face hidden in the solid warmth of his shoulder, he could feel the testy irritability, the belligerent restlessness, the nagging fears keeping him on edge sloughing off. It was ok that his cracks were coming apart, leaking the tension that was making him itch in his skin, so badly at times he wanted to claw it off. Cougar was holding him, _would _hold him, while he drained the maleficent spectres haunting him in a long overdue venesection.

Really soothing him, though, was Cougar’s thumb. Stroking along the delicate skin behind Jensen’s ear, over and over, it was describing a repetitive motion that was gentling all of his grating senses and instilling a quiet in his racing thoughts that was damn near unprecedented. It allowed him to _breathe_, a brief respite where he didn’t have to plan and worry and wrack his brains but could simply _be_.

So breathe he did. Breathed in Cougar’s warm scent, blended with traces of sweat from working in the sweltering heat, of laundry detergent still clinging to the fabric of his shirt, achingly familiar from sneaking furtive hits through every excuse Jensen could come up with. It was as comforting as it was intoxicating, heady even as it grounded him, and as always it took the weight off his chest even as it squeezed his lungs with _want_.

Once he’d settled, though, he couldn’t deny the intimacy of the moment any longer. Personal space had always been more of a theoretical concept between him and Cougar, but Jensen tried never to let himself indulge too much. He had a hard enough time making sure his not-really-very-platonic-at-all feelings for his team mate didn’t bleed all over the place as it was. He didn’t like his chances if he gave up whatever nominal distance there still existed between them. Case in point. It wasn’t like they’d never hugged before, see the whole no personal space thing. Besides, touch was the best way to calm Jensen down when his brain got too loud. Tried and tested.

This was different, though. There was a terrifying tenderness in Cougar’s thumb that was going to end up giving Jensen painful hope. And the way Jensen was clinging back was going to betray him if it went on much longer.

Jensen realized he’d brought his hands up to clutch at the back of Cougar’s shirt. Well, one of them was clutching – the kitchen towel wrapped around his left hand made clutching a little awkward. Good. At least he wasn’t getting blood all over Cougar on top of everything else. Speaking of awkward. As much as he could easily stay in Cougar’s embrace for<strike>ever</strike> a little longer, he really needed to disentangle himself if he wanted to have any hope of getting out of this with what remained of his dignity still intact.

He still couldn’t bring himself to be the first to pull back. Instead, he gave Cougar a pat with his betowelled hand.

“Should probably take care of that.”

Cougar did draw back at that, but his hand didn’t leave Jensen’s neck, and he ducked his head to try and catch Jensen’s eye. Yeah, no way _that _was a good idea.

When Jensen brought his hands up to unwrap the towel, Cougar huffed like he saw the attempted distraction for what it was and took over like the mother hen _he _secretly was.

Rather than watch Cougar’s careful hands efficiently divest his own of its makeshift dressing, Jensen reached into the overhead cupboard to retrieve the prudently stashed first aid kit, setting it on the counter. Inspecting the cut, Cougar apparently decided it wasn’t bad enough to require stitches and proceeded to bandage it up. Jensen let him, not because it was a convenient excuse to keep Cougar’s hands on him (shut up), but because Cougar could be a bit of a control freak, and Jensen knew it would reassure him to do the patching up himself.

Yeah, Jensen wasn’t buying it, either.

He wasn’t buying it so hard he couldn’t even work up a good rambling to cover up how much he wasn’t buying it. While the resulting silence wasn’t exactly awkward, it did feel significant. Like they were still inside that bubble impenetrable to the real world and all its bullshit.

Maybe that was what was keeping the embarrassment at bay, too. It was probably going to make an appearance at some point, but his outburst had left him drained and he knew, intellectually, that Cougar wouldn’t judge him for it. Sure, showing weakness or vulnerability didn’t come easy to either of them, but if there was anyone they knew they could trust with their soft, hidden underbellies, it was each other. They knew each other too well, had gone through too much shit together.

It still took until Cougar was packing up the kit again, his back turned to stow it away, for Jensen to find his voice.

“Thanks. For, you know. Everything.”

Studiously inspecting his bandaged finger, Jensen could feel Cougar’s eyes on him once he turned back round.

“Any time.”

As Jensen made to squeeze past Cougar to take up the interrupted meal preparations, Cougar grabbed him by the upper arm. Jensen halted in his tracks and met a gaze so fervently earnest it could’ve starred in an Oscar Wilde play.

After attempting telepathy for a few seconds, Cougar said: “I mean it.”

A little taken aback by his intensity that crackled across the space between them, it took Jensen a moment to reply.

“I know.”

It was apparently not as reassuring as he’d hoped, for Cougar didn’t release him, looking like he wanted to say more. Starting to feel like he was missing something important, Jensen licked suddenly inordinately dry lips. His heart missed a beat when he saw Cougar’s eyes flick down at the movement. Jensen swallowed, heart in his throat. He felt Cougar’s fingers twitch on his arm before –

“Yo, how’s dinner coming along?”

How wildly he startled at Pooch’s abrupt entrance told Jensen a lot about how lost he had been in that breathless moment. Collecting himself (significantly easier once Cougar let go of him), he turned toward the counter, starting up a vociferous griping about lazy team mates who were more than welcome to help if they were that hungry to gloss over the alarming realisation that he’d almost done something incredibly, monumentally stupid.


End file.
